


Years Down The Line

by Battle_Of_Roses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little angst, But mostly fluff, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, I felt so sad for Anne Marie that it broke my writers block, M/M, Many years after the EP 10.01 Black, Presenting this story because I hate sad endings and love destiel, established Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Battle_Of_Roses/pseuds/Battle_Of_Roses
Summary: After the events of Ep 10x01 Black, Anne Marie moves forward in life carrying the hurt in her heart from Dean's casually inflicted words. Throughout the years, she thinks of the ways she'll react if she ever meets Dean again. But, a quaint afternoon at the bar might bring her the opportunity and some revelations.





	Years Down The Line

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> As stated in the tags, I felt so sad for Anne Marie in the episode "Black" about how Dean treated her even though he was a demon and was riding around with the King of hell. So this takes place after many years when everything has settled down and Destiel is canon, and since Dean is now a human, he doesn't remember his memories from his Deanmon times. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It’s about 12 in the afternoon when the little godforsaken bell above the door tinkles altering her that a customer has come. The bell was something of her own idea, something that she bitterly regrets after hanging it for a total of five hours. But now, it’s been about 5 years since it has been hung and Anne Marie has learned to make her peace with it. Again, it didn’t mean that she would pass out on complaining about it to her husband and pout about. 

“I’ll be just a moment, please wait,” She says to the shadowed man sitting at the end of the counter. She hastily wipes down the counter, soaking her rag with alcohol dripping down, spilt by unhappy lovers drowning their sorrows, angry men drowning their rage and old ogling men drowning their fading youth. Most of whom who came in just drowned themselves in the bottom of the bottle. Rarely it was, that people came to celebrate, to drink to enjoy rather than making it into a means to an end. 

As she makes her way to the man sitting in the darkened corner of the counter, she hears him giving a throaty chuckle. It’s of joy, happiness; the noise floats and mixes in the stale air of the bar like a beacon. A smile slowly forms on her face, even though she works hours in a place which she owns and loves, the depressing feel of people getting drunk and crying gets inside and makes for a melancholic working environment. 

“Love you, Cas. Yes, see you later. Say my hello to Jack for me. Bye, Cas.” His voice lingers at the end as if unwilling to leave the phone. But, it’s something about his voice that makes her stop for a second, something about it makes her think back to the old days of darkness and anti-depressants. 

She pushes herself forward and asks him, “What would you like?.”

And then when he looks up and smiles at her orders Beer on tap, that a spike of anger and sadness stabs her. 

_ It’s him.  _

_ Dean Freaking Winchester.  _

It’s him with his oh-so green eyes, and his eyes crinkled as he smiles at her. It’s him with his stupidly gorgeous self, his perfect hair and his deep voice. 

His eyes glaze over her without recognition and look back to his phone as if he wants to call back _“Cas.” _

A sour taste sweeps over her tongue over her speculation on who _“Cas”_ might be. Was she one of the skanks that he sleeps with as he rolls through the town. She feels a wave of pity for this girl, she wonders what wonder and fantasies Dean might be spooling in her mind. 

Years ago, it was Dean Winchester who had called her a skank, who he had around him for a good time when he was rolling through time. And to her dying day, no one but Anne herself would know that it was those casually spit out words from him, that made her snap and that she wanted to take care of her life and get her shit together. 

“You don’t remember me.” She wished that her voice didn’t have that quaver. 

“Excuse me?” He looks up in confusion and as she looks onto him,_ it’s real. _

“Do I know you?”

He can’t recognise her truly, bile rises. She wrings her hands trying to stifle down the rising bile. 

She ignores his question aimed at her, his face pitched with embarrassment and confusion. 

“I’ll bring your beer.” 

She walks away from him unable to think on how to respond. Her hands shake softly as she tries to catch all of the beer inside the glass. It’s been years since he’d left suddenly, something she suspects is more of a habit rather than ghosting. She wants to tell him, shake his shoulders and make him remember his casual spoken words that had inflicted pain on her. 

But, he seems different. He’s not the same casually aggressive man who drinks and sings horrible karaoke and best up people not because he wants to save someone's honour but because he needs to beat someone up. No, the edge in him is not there, even though he has the same face, the same smile, the same weariness. The anger isn’t there, he more than not bears the look of a battle-weary soldier and there a quiet presence of happiness and calm and peace is within him. He is different. 

And just like that, the bell again tinkles echoing softly in the near-empty bar. 

It’s a cute guy. With mussed up hair and his wide-eyed baby blue looks, he looks out of place, the kind that would bump into furniture and apologize. He looked like he was looking for someone, which more sense than him coming alone to drink and numb himself. 

Before she can call out to him, he walks away towards one of the darker areas, perhaps spotting his friend. 

She finally takes the beer back to Dean, preparing herself to face him again. Years have passed and he seems to be changed, still, the words remain the hurt remains. She reasons with herself to linger around for a bit and see if he remembers at all and keep an eye out for him. 

As she walks back to him, she thinks back about _“Cas.”_ Maybe this girl is the one who made an honest man out of Dean. The girl who made him stay. She wanted to linger even more to see if this_ “Cas”_ came. 

She sees him sitting in the far with his head rested on someone's shoulder and the other person’s hands carding through his hair messing it up. 

And it’s no less than a surprise when she sees that it’s the same man from before, the one with the wide-eyed baby look is the one who holds Dean close while the latter nuzzles his head close on his shoulder looking relaxed. 

_Huh._ Dean had changed more than she’d thought. 

_No._ This is definitely not the same man who’d take girls for a shag. Who’d drink cheap wine, Who’d didn’t give a fuck about his friend Crowley? Who’d go out and howl at the moon? 

_No._ This is the real Dean Winchester who loves this man sitting beside him. Who’d keep you close after the deed was done to share intimacy for those few moments before he kicked her out? Who’d followed her in the first place to make sure that her ex didn’t hurt her? This was the man whose glimpses she got through the cracks. 

The man she had longed for when he held her when she talked to him about her problems in hushed whispers at night when the sliver of moonlight fell on his eyes shining the greenness in them before they turned into the black in the darkness which swallowed the moon. 

And he looked at peace with himself, the inner turmoil extinguished. A wave of calm serenity took over her as she looked at him, forgiveness grew inside her. 

“Here’s your beer.” She placed it in front of him. Dean’s partner smiled at her, warmth spreading in the air. Dean woke up and shook his head to clear off his sleepiness. He looked at the other man and mumble, “Cas, you want anything?”

So, this was _“Cas.”_ And he wasn’t the kind of person Anne Marie had imagined to be. Heck, he wasn’t of the same gender as she’d thought. 

“No,” He shook his head firmly, “Thank you.” She quietly retreated but not before to see Dean press a soft kiss to Cas’s cheek and Cas kissing him back, the beer left abandoned, condensing. 

“All right, Hon?” Frank encircled his arms around her waist pulling her close. He pulled her hands towards him and kissed her wedding ring and intertwined his own hands. Their rings rested close together. 

“They’re a cute couple, aren’t they?” She followed his gaze to look back at Dean and Cas. 

“Yeah, they are just like us.”

Years and years she’d thought about what she would say to Dean if she ever met him. Perhaps yell at him, perhaps ask him to stay, perhaps cave into her desperation. But then, she had met Frank and then she thought again about what she would say to him, perhaps flaunt her happiness at him, make him feel broken. The feeling had faded away, and she sometimes thought about Dean in those solitary nights when Frank fell asleep before 

But years down the line, it seemed they’d both found their perfect people. 

Years down the line they had found their peace. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Send some kudos my way! Have a great day/night!


End file.
